“Yes, my dear?”
“Pay attention. You just landed on my city. Cash or credit?”
“Credit,” he said.
That night I dreamed. I slept late, and woke up exhausted. I found Hvarlgen in Grand Central, on the phone with Sidrath, as usual lately. A lunie was changing the poster from D=29 to D=11.
“Here’s Johnny and Sidrath just crossed Wolf Creek Pass,” Hvarlgen said, hanging up.
“They’re balling the jack,” I said.
“They’re using boosters,” she said. “We all have the feeling we’re running out of time.”
This was to be, by agreement, our last contact session. All the lunies were there; in their yellow tunics they were as alike as bees. I sat in the usual spot, which seemed to be part of the protocol. I enjoyed the position of prominence—especially since I got to keep my pants on.
Hvarlgen placed the bowl on the floor and the dark whale dove— twisted beautifully out of its bowl—and the Shadow appeared in the image of a man.
Hvarlgen looked at me. “Do you have a question?”
“What happens after the communication?” I asked.
“I cease to be.”
“Will we cease to be?”
“You are a where-when string.”
“What are you?” asked Dr. Kim.
“Not a what. A where-when point.”
“When does the communication take place?” asked Hvarlgen.
“Soon.” He was repeating himself. We were repeating ourselves. Was it my imagination, or did the Shadow seem weary?
Hvarlgen, nothing if not democratic, turned her chair toward the lunies gathered in the doorway and on the bed.
“Do any of you have any questions?”
There were none.
There was a long silence and the Shadow began to fade. I felt like I was seeing him for the last time, and I felt a sense of loss. It was my image that was fading away…
“Wait!” I wanted to say. “Speak!” But I said nothing. Soon the Shadow was back in its bowl.
“I have to get some sleep,” said Dr. Kim, taking a shot of PeaceAble.
“Come on, Major,” said Hvarlgen. We left, taking the lunies with us.
I made my own lunch, then watched a little bit of Bonnie and Clyde with the lunies. Like them, I was tired of the Moon. I was tired of the Shadow. Tired of waiting for either the communication, or the arrival of the Diana—both events over which we had no control.
I took a walk around the little-used periphery tunnel that led from South to North via West. It was cold and smelly. Ahead of me I saw a new, unfamiliar light. I hurried to West, suspecting what it was. Forty kilometers away, the high ragged rim of 17,000-foot peaks at the western edge of Korolev was touched with sunlight.
Dawn was still hours away, but it had already struck the tops of the nameless mountains, which were as bright in the sky as a new moon, the Moon’s moon, casting temporary backward shadows across the crater floor. Everything seemed reversed.
I stood for what seemed like hours, watching. The dawn was as slow as an hour hand, and I grew cold.
From West I cut straight through to East, even though I hadn’t been invited. Hvarlgen was still on the phone, and I felt like talking with somebody. Maybe Dr. Kim would be awake.